The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Vi Part 25

MEDEA. Prove that I twist thy words! I'll thank thee for it.

Quick, quick! The king draws nigh.--Let thy heart speak!

JASON. So, wait we here the breaking of the storm.

[GORA _comes out of the tent with the two children_; MEDEA _places herself between the children, and at first waits in the distance, watching anxiously all that pa.s.ses. The_ KING _enters with his daughter and attended by youths and maidens who carry the vessels for the sacrifice._]

KING. Where is this stranger?--Who he is, my heart, By its wild beating, warns me; wanderer, And banished from his homeland, nay, mayhap E'en guilty of those crimes men charge him with.-- Where is the stranger?

JASON. Here, my lord, bowed low Before thee, not a stranger, though estranged.

A suppliant I, and come to pray thine aid.

Thrust forth from house and home, by all men shunned, I fly to thee, my guest-friend, and beseech In confidence the shelter of thy roof.

CREUSA. Ay, it is he! Look, father, 'tis Prince Jason!

[_She takes a step toward him._]

JASON. Yea, it is I. And is this thou, Creusa, Crowned with a yet more gentle, radiant grace, But still the same? O, take me by the hand And lead me to thy father, where he stands With thoughtful brow, fixing his steady gaze Upon my face, and dallies with his doubt Whether to greet me kindly. Is he wroth At me, or at my guilt, which all men cry?

CREUSA (_taking_ JASON's _hand and leading him to her father_).

See, father, 'tis Prince Jason!

KING. He is welcome.

JASON. Thy distant greeting shows me clear what place Now best beseems me. Here at thy feet I fall And clasp thy knees, and stretch a timid hand To touch thy chin. Grant me my prayer, O King!

Receive and shelter a poor suppliant wretch!

KING. Rise, Jason.

JASON. Never, till thou--

KING. Rise, I say.

[_Jason rises to his feet._]

KING. So, from thine Argo-quest thou art returned?

JASON. 'Tis scarce one moon since I set foot on land.

KING. What of the golden prize ye sought? Is't won?

JASON. The king who set the task--he hath it now.

KING. Why art thou banished from thy fatherland?

JASON. They drove me forth--homeless I wander now.

KING. Ay, but why banished? I must see this clear.

JASON. They charged me with a foul, accursed crime.

KING. Truly or falsely? Answer me this first.

JASON. A false charge! By the G.o.ds I swear, 'tis false!

KING (_swiftly grasping_ JASON's _hand and leading him forward_).

Thine uncle perished?

JASON. Yea, he died.

KING. But how?

JASON. Not at my hands! As I do live and breathe, I swear that b.l.o.o.d.y deed was none of mine!

KING. Yet Rumor names thee Murderer, and the word Through all the land is blown.

JASON. Then Rumor lies, And all that vile land with it!

KING. Dream'st thou then I can believe thy single tale, when all The world cries, "Liar!"

JASON. 'Tis the word of one Thou knowest well, against the word of strangers.

KING. Say, then, how fell the king?

JASON. 'Twas his own blood, The children of his flesh, that did the deed.

KING. Horror of horrors! Surely 'tis not true?

It cannot be!

JASON. The G.o.ds know it is truth.

Give ear, and I will tell thee how it chanced.

KING. Nay, hold. Creusa comes. This is no tale For gentle ears. I fain would s.h.i.+eld the maid From knowledge of such horror. (_Aloud._) For the moment I know enough. We'll hear the rest anon.

I will believe thee worthy while I can.

CREUSA (_coming up to _KING CREON).

Hast heard his tale? He's innocent, I know.

KING. Go, take his hand. Thou canst without disgrace.

CREUSA. Didst doubt him, father? Nay, I never did!

My heart told me these tales were never true, These hideous stories that men tell of him.

Gentle he was, and kind; how could he, then, Show him so base and cruel? Couldst thou know How they have slandered thee, heaped curse on curse!

I've wept, to think our fellow-men could be So bitter, false. For thou hadst scarce set sail, When, sudden, all men's talk throughout the land Was of wild deeds and hideous midnight crimes-- The fruit of witchcraft on far Colchis' sh.o.r.es-- Which thou hadst done.--And, last, a woman, dark And dreadful, so they said, thou took'st to wife, Brewer of poisons, slayer of her sire.

What was her name? It had a barbarous sound--